Love Bites by Lynsay Sands Read Free Book Online

exactly there was, when memory swamped her—random and confusing memories, a blond-haired man bending over her, holding her half upright and urging her to drink, though there was no glass to drink from. Yet she recalled fluid warm and thick on her tongue. Rachel also had a flash of a madman in khakis and a trench coat wielding an ax. She recalled a horrible pain in her chest, which was followed by a memory of Fred and Dale telling her that she’d got the assistant’s job and would soon be off the night shift. The memories seemed out of order, but the last was good and made her smile as she drifted in and out of consciousness. Then Rachel remembered a confusing conversation she’d heard—one that had made very little sense to her at the time and still didn’t, but had something to do with life partners and turning. Turning what, and how, she couldn’t recall. All in all, the memories were scattered and made very little sense.
    Rachel opened her eyes again and glanced around the room. It was blue, with a tasteful modern decor, abstract paintings and silver lamps on either side of the bed. Rachel still wasn’t sure where she was or how she’d got there, but she was so weak and exhausted she decided she didn’t care and would rest. The moment her eyes drifted closed, though, she had a flash of an ax swinging at her.
    Rachel popped her eyes open, and horror consumed her. She’d been struck down by an ax blow, and she had been sure it was a killing one. At least, without aid it would have been. But Rachel had a vague recollection of her attacker, then a silver-eyed man bending over her, telling her to rest and conserve her strength while he checked her wound. He had been similar in looks to the man who had haunted her dreams while she had the flu, but this man’s hair had been dark where her dream man was blond.
    Obviously, help had come. Rachel just wished her thoughts were a little less murky. While the memory of being brought down by the blow of an ax explained the pain in her chest, it didn’t explain the pain through the rest of her body. It also didn’t explain where she was. She really should be in a hospital. This definitely wasn’t a hospital.
    Rachel peered toward the blinds covering the windows. They glowed at the edges with a hint of the sunlight attempting to enter. It was obviously day out. She wished the blinds had been left open so she could perhaps figure out where she was.
    Pushing aside the blankets that covered her, Rachel struggled to a sitting position, then peered down at herself. She was completely nude. That was interesting. She never slept in the nude, and hospitals generally put those awful gowns on. Well, this was a wrinkle, and she had no idea what to make of it.
    She shifted restlessly on the bed, then glanced down curiously when something pulled at her arm. The sight of an IV near the crook of her elbow made her pause. Her gaze followed the clear tube leading from it to the bag hanging from the IV stand. The bag was deflated and empty, but a drop or two of liquid remained behind—enough for Rachel to recognize it as blood. She had obviously needed a transfusion.
    The thought made her glance down at her chest again in search of her wound. She distinctly recalled the ax slamming into her body, yet there were nobandages, and no sign of injury other than a thin scar that marked her chest from her shoulder blade down to the top of one nipple. Her eyes widened incredulously on the scar, and she went still as its meaning struck her: Weeks, perhaps even months, had passed since the attack.
    â€œDear God,” Rachel breathed. How long had she slept? Had she been in a coma? Was she in a special facility for coma cases? That was almost reassuring, until she recalled the promotion she had just got at work. If she had been in a coma for months, she might have lost the position to someone else. Hell, she had probably lost her job altogether. But